


Combinations

by merewiowing



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Domestic, F/F, Haircuts, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Pre-Femslash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4048909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merewiowing/pseuds/merewiowing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifty themed Jill/Mist ficlets set in various points of canon, as well as post-canon. Updated sporadically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. theme #5 - coffee

**Author's Note:**

> i stole a 1sentence theme set so i can keep myself Writing while real life stress prevents me from being able to focus on longer projects. i am a Rebel
> 
> huge shout-out to papli papaveri and em rosage for being super supportive of my endeavours!

„Nasir has told me this drink is very popular where he comes from,” Mist says as she pours two cups of a brown concoction. The coffee has a very curious, intense smell, that makes Jill wrinkle her nose. She picks up her cup and takes a small, careful sip.

The drink is hot, as she expected, but she didn’t expect the aggressive bitter taste. It reminds her of the medicine she took as a child. She puts he cup down and coughs, then looks up at Mist. The other girl is drinking slowly, but without apparent displeasure.

Jill waits for her to finish before speaking.

“I don’t like it,” she admits. “It’s too bitter for me.”

“I didn’t mind that, really,” Mist says, turning her cup around in her palms. “ButI think Nasir mentioned that some people add milk or honey to make it sweeter. If I tried that next time, would you give it a second chance?”

Jill considers the question. She picks up her cup, blows at the steaming coffee gently. She takes another sip, this time a larger one.

Broadening your horizons is good for you, she’s found.

“I can give it a second chance,” she replies.


	2. theme #50 - wood

Ike writes rarely. Mist supposes she should be more surprised or disappointed by that.

Even less often, Ike sends a package. Something small, with a short note attached. “This might be useful”, “Soren found this”, “Made me think of you”. Trinkets, oddities, bits and pieces. They give her few hints of what her brother is doing, what his life is now like.

Mist writes back every time. She’s never certain if her letters reach Ike, but that’s no reason to stop trying. She sends her wishes, asks questions, describes what their mutual friends and family are doing. Sometimes she adds a playful jab at Soren.

This mutual one-way correspondence used to irritate her, made her feel detached and impotent. She’s long accepted it, though.

 

Mist never thinks twice about mentioning Jill in her letters. She knows her brother and Jill have had a strained relationship, but Jill came to Crimea to live with her. She’s family now. If there’s space for Jill in Mist’s bed and at Mist’s table, there’s space for Jill in Mist’s letters to her brother.

Ike’s letters never acknowledge Jill, but they almost never acknowledge anything Mist writes about. Mist reminds herself that she didn’t expect anything else.

 

one day they receive a package and its contents surprise Mist a little. There are two figurines carved from a dark wood she doesn’t recognise. She isn’t certain what they represent; the handiwork is rough.

She shows them to Jill, along with the piece of paper that was bundled in with them. (“An acquaintance made these to return a favour.”)

“This one’s a horse,” Jill says, squinting. “You can make out the hooves and the mane.” She traces her finger along one side of the figurine.

“And the other one?” Mist lifts the carving up to Jill’s face. She can’t help herself and softly taps her on the nose with it. (Very carefully, this figurine has a few sharper points.)

Jill laughs a little. “Stop that, Mist.” She takes the figurine and looks at it from all sides. “This one is more crude, but… It might be a dragon. A meagre one.”

“Maybe dragons are different where Ike is now.”

“Maybe.” Jill doesn’t sound convinced. “The wings are all wrong, though. Whoever made this has never seen a real dragon.”

Mist looks at the wings again. Something connects inside her head.

“Do you think”, she starts, still not fully certain, “that this might be a wyvern?”

Jill lifts the figurine up to her face again, then turns it around. Once, and then twice, for good measure.

“A very inaccurate one, maybe.” She sets the figurine back on the table with a _clack_. “As if the figurine is based on a faulty description, not experience.”

Neither of them says anything for a while. Mist can hear footsteps from somewhere in the house.

“Let’s put these on the windowsill in our room,” she decides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love ike but you know he'd be awful at keeping in touch


	3. theme #16 - flying

The first time Mist flies with Jill, she shuts her eyes and keeps them closed until they land. In the air, her world shrinks so small there’s only room for three things in it. One, the shrieks of Jill’s wyvern. Two, the rough cotton of Jill’s shirt under Mist’s arms. Three, the wind that cuts at her cheeks and fingers, threatening to unfasten her grip.

It’s childish, she thinks later. She had considered herself braver.

“It’s not about bravery,” Jill soothes her after the day has died down and they had retreated to the quiet of their tent. “The first time everyone thinks the sky will swallow them.” Her hands massage Mist’s scalp. The fabric around them keeps the wind out. The inside of the tent is, too, a small, confined world.

“It was loud,” Mist whispers. Her cheeks still burn with shame, but there is comfort in Jill’s touch. She takes one of Jill’s palms and brings it lower, closer to her face. Jill hums; her fingers stroke Mist’s cheek.

“I wish I could promise you that you’ll never fly again,” Jill says, regret plain in her voice. “But what I can promise is that it will be easier next time.”

She lowers her head and her breath ghosts over Mist’s face before she presses a kiss to her lips. It leaves an aftertaste of an apology.

“It will be easier next time,” Mist repeats quietly, like a prayer she doesn’t believe in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologise for my pretentious bullshit


	4. theme #10 - duty

The mercenaries don’t treat her like she had expected. Most of them don’t ask any questions and avoid her eyes. Jill had imagined she would have to argue, to fight to be able to remain with them. She could have managed that; she knows her strength.

The lack of hostility almost disappoints her. She’s ready reach for her axe at any time, and all she gets from it is a dull ache in her arms. On days when they don’t encounter enemies she goes to bed more tired than she had ever been before.

Jill reminds herself that there is a job to be done among them and remains silent even when her fingers twitch and her throat bursts with words she swallows at the last minute.

The one person who looks straight at her is Mist. That girl seems to have made it her duty to interfere with everyone on the ship. It makes Jill want to shake her; such behaviour is not suited for war. In a regular army she would have learned to be quiet long ago.

And yet, no matter how many questions Jill ignores, no matter how many conversations she walks away from, Mist persists. She follows Jill with plates of food, she asks her if her wounds are healing up fine. When she speaks, she looks up so she can look Jill straight into the eye. Jill has almost forgotten how that feels.

By the time the ship reaches Begnion, Jill has begun to answer Mist’s questions, and her fingers no longer twitch when she’s not holding a weapon.


	5. theme #27 - metal

“You’d like me to cut your hair?”

“Yes. Usually Titania does this for me,” Mist explains, apologetic, “but she’s been so busy, and I didn’t know who else to ask.” She’s holding a piece of cloth and a pair of scissors in front of her, as if uncertain if she should hold them out or not.

Jill eyes her hair carefully. It _does_ seem longer than it was when they first met, though not by much. It’s definitely at the awkward length when it’s long enough to be a bother, and still too short to tie back – she knows this problem all too well.

“How much would you like me to cut off?”

“Just a little, up to around my chin I suppose?” Mist motions with her free hand.

“Then I suppose I can try.” She takes the scissors from Mist’s hand. “But wouldn’t it be better to ask someone more experienced? Like Calill, for example.”

“I thought about that, but she’s really intimidating. I don’t think I could relax if she did it.” She wraps the cloth around her shoulders. “Where should I…?” Her voice trails off as she looks around the tent.

Jill swallows the instinct to apologise.

“We… You could go borrow a crate, I suppose, but otherwise there’s no place to sit, other than the ground. ”

“I don’t mind”, Mist says brightly. She looks around a bit more, chooses a spot that doesn’t seem any different from anywhere else inside the tent, and sits down. Jill settles behind her, kneeling, and brandishes the scissors.

“Last chance to change your mind,” she warns, and Mist giggles.

“It’ll be fine, Jill,” she says with confidence.

Jill begins to work. For a while, there is no sound in the tent besides their breathing and the _snip, snip_ of the scissors. Afternoon sunlight pours in through the open tent flap. In the back of her mind, Jill thinks that this is the most comfortable she’s been for weeks.

“Why don’t you grow your hair out, Mist? It’s a bother at first, but then tying it up is easier than cutting it,” she suggests. She thinks of what Mist said earlier – _usually Titania does it for me_ – and imagines her friend with a thick braid like the knight’s. It would suit her, she thinks.

“I tried to, once, but it got really unruly. It felt like I had a haystack on my head,” Mist groans. Jill stills, the vision of Mist in a braid replaced with Mist with straw instead of hair. She stifles a laugh, and Mist turns around to glare at her.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just hard to imagine, I suppose.” Mist turns back, appeased, and Jill starts her work again. “My hair was a bit like that when I was a child, and my nurse braided it really tight every night. Eventually it smoothed down under its own weight.”

“You think mine would, too?”

“You won’t know unless you try. But I think longer hair would suit you.”

Mist _hm_ s quietly, not quite in agreement. Jill feels herself smile.

“But if you don’t want to, I’d be happy to help you cut it anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a powerful urge to write about haircuts today. mist's hair troubles may or may not be based on my own; i will never tell.


End file.
